Erosion
by rubie
Summary: AU fic that takes place before Hisoka's death, set it Kamakura. Tsuzuki is sent to investigate what at first appears to be a simple case, but becomes entangled in the hate and anger within the Kurosaki family. *general repost 11.08.01 (=_=)
1. Teaser

Standard disclaimers apply.   
  
--------------------------------  
Erosion - teaser  
by Rubie  
--------------------------------   
  
A sky.   
  
A sun.   
  
A mist of white snow.   
  
A courtyard of painful purity, behind him.   
  
A river, thin and shallow, lightly flowed in the distance.   
  
And sakura fell like rain from the sky.   
  
Path of stone bricks, once placed carefully face to face, were now broken with age. They scored their way through the soft, moist earth; through the delicate silvery grass fringed with ice and water; through the crimson chrysanthemums that painted themselves in the gardens; away from the house at the base of the mountain. And he followed it, not knowing why he was there or where he was going.   
  
Around him, an elaborate design of a traditional garden carved itself on the slopes of a shallow mountain. The hardened sakura trees grew with their grotesque trunks rooted to the rocky soil, and stood next to one another so closely that he could not tell the arms of one from the other. The soft and fine grass was carefully cropped; no footprints marked themselves on its delicate face. There was a simple stone shrine to some lonely spirit of this mountain; he saw it out of the corner of his right eye as he followed the eroding path.   
  
Hisoka knew this place well. He saw it every morning when he awoke, and he saw it every night before he slept. But he never stood on this path or approached the mountains, and he did not know why he was doing it now. He didn't remember how he got there either, but only knew that the land came to him in the night and held him in his sleep. And for some odd reason, and he felt at ease wandering through its terrain.   
  
A simple rural village spanned out beneath him as the trail led him deeper into the mountains. It glowed under the coat of fresh snow. And more kept falling, entwined with the light pink petals that sailed in the sky as if dancing to an imperceptible song. Hisoka raised his hand and caught one as it flew by with trembling fingers. The flower looked at him in horror, its eyes widening in disgust. And as more sakura swirled around him, he saw faces on them as well, all twisted in hate, anger, and fear.   
  
He walked on.   
  
There was a pale lily, still young and not yet blooming by the cracks of a forgotten well. It faced away from the sun as if its rays were blinding and painful. And when he brushed the fragile petals with his fingers, it crumbled away like the dust of an ancient wood. He clutched at it in a desperate attempt to salvage it, but his hand came away with a handful of powdered white.   
  
"I am eroding in this dying world," it told him. "Let me be reborn."   
  
Even its soft voice was ghost-like, the cold of the dying winter cloaking it like a child to its mother. Like an enemy to its fiend.   
  
"You are part of me," it told him.   
  
He looked at it in confusion, his hand tainted with death. Even when he wiped his hands against the moist snow, the white coated his palm like a ghost.   
  
He walked on.   
  
The path was taking him steeply into the mountain. He wondered if that was where his legs wanted to go all along, but his mind refused to listen. The bricks of stone were crumbling, scattered about their original residence in broken pieces. Then finally, they gave out altogether, and Hisoka found himself wandering through a thick sakura grove, leaving fresh footprints engraved in the grass.   
  
He pushed his way through the screaming flowers, his feet crunching in the frozen earth. Strangely, he did not feel cold, as if the ice and snow had been in him for a long time before.   
  
There was a pale statue directly in front of him, overlooking the village below. A thick coat of snow had settled on it, hiding its body like a mask. He brushed the sculpture, revealing the face of one exquisitely carved and delicate features that appeared tired and peaceful at the same time. As Hisoka sweeped the frost from the figurine's tall frame, the man shivered and jerked to life. His eyes clenched then opened, disclosing purple like the painted sky, brightened by the sun's dying flame. The man grasped his hand before Hisoka could pull away; his hand was like fire to his skin.   
  
"Only the living can feed from the living. Only the dead can feed from the dead," the man told him, his breath leaving no mist in the winter sky.   
  
He pulled away from the man, struggling to free his hand. But his arm melted like water, staining the white earth. He could feel his skin giving away, his vision blurred, and his body collapsed like a handful of lilies crushed from above. Streaks of ashes scattered in the windblown snow, and he left with it, flying free from the world below.   
  
"We are born to live and live to die." the frost whispered in his ears with a voice that scattered by the wind.   
  
An avalanche of sakura had poured from the rich gardens and descended upon the house at the base of the mountain. It did not scream or protest, even though the faces of those petals were raging. But instead, the house seemed to welcome them, as if they were a break from years of tension. As if those pink petals were the long held breath of dying man, bringing him freedom in death.   
  
And the world below was covered in that bloody snow.   
  
  
End of teaser  
---------------------------  
  
i am not smoking/drinking/eating anything funny...


	2. Chapter 1

[humm... Tsuzuki isn't the character I can think from so this story comes out, butchered... For some reason, I could place myself in Hisoka (Crudus is NOT a good example) and Tatsumi's shoes, but not Tsuzuki or Watari... >.  
Standard disclaimers apply.   
  
------------------------------------  
Erosion - Chapter 1  
by Rubie  
------------------------------------   
  
A shallow stream shimmered in the distance.   
  
A sakura grove swept like a bloody blanket across the mountains.   
  
A courtyard bore an eroding path that carved itself through the snow.   
  
"Please excuse me, Doctor. Master will be with you soon"   
  
I watched the servant as she hurried back to the hall with an inward sigh. The traditional setting of a rural estate was beautiful, but it felt oppressing somehow. The family's display of simple lavishness was unsettlingly and intimidating. I was in no hurry to meet the master of the household.   
  
Being without a partner was discomforting as well.   
  
_/Tsuzuki-san, she'll meet you in Kamakura./_ Tatsumi had said.   
  
But she never came. I couldn't quite decide whether that was because Tatsumi didn't like the idea of me working with a woman, or the woman saw my past recordes and decided I was a freak. Both thoughts were discouraging. But it didn't really matter; this case was rather simple anyway.   
  
There was a spirit dancing at with life and death. But his body has long since died three years ago; ;something was holding him back. A feeling of duty as the heir to the Kurosaki family perhaps? Or that undying desire to live? I wasn't sure, but I was suppose to free him from his binds and set him in peace. But it was wrong of Tatsumi to send me. I respect life far more than death. I'll probably just try to cheat the underworld of another spirit to collect.   
  
But maybe that was why Tatsumi sent me. A shinigami could not interact with the living if he didn't love them.   
  
"Doctor Tsuzuki Asato?"   
  
A soft yet firm voice met my ears. A man with light brown hair and almost glowing silver eyes stood at the entranceway with the air of someone completely self-assured. The walls seemed to cringe at his touch and tension was suddenly tangible. I forced a nervous smile.   
  
"Yes, I came from Tokyo. I believe you sent for a doctor to treat your son?" I asked, choosing my words with care. Hopefully, he wouldn't become suspicious. GuShoShin had created replacement files and forged my medical license last minute.   
  
He nodded slowly, and I could feel my back relax. I searched his expressions for an emotion. Sadness for his child perhaps? A sign to show the seemingly flawless man had a weakness? But his face remained a mask of indifference.   
  
"Miya-san will prepare your room."   
  
And with that, he was gone.   
  
***   
  
Miya-chan had a bright smile and carefree spirit. As she led me down the hall, she described the wonderful neighbors, Master's cold face but warm heart, Mistress's beauty and kindness. It seemed she never had anything bad to say about anybody.   
  
"Don't mind Master's words. He doesn't say much, but he is very nice to all of us. Lately, he's been very busy discussing some things with the family, and that was why he said so little. Rui-sama, our mistress, is a beautiful woman. She'll be very happy to see you. She isn't home, but she'll speak to you as soon as she returns. She's visiting Master's older brother right now."   
  
Kurosaki Nagare had a older brother? Yet he is the head of the household; that sounded very unusual. I made a mental note to ask GuShoShin later.   
  
"I'm sure Kasane-sama would like to meet you as well. She's Rui-sama's older sister, and she helps fill up her place in the household when she's gone. We're all very excited that you're here, Doctor." She paused as she opened a sliding door and led me to my room. "Which hospital were you sent from?"   
  
I swallowed uncomfortably and forced a smile, "I don't work in a hospital. I'm in private practice. But the request that your Master sent showed up in our computer network and I thought I'd volunteer." My reply sounded shaky. I desperately wondered what would happen if they actually wanted me to issue prescriptions.   
  
_Tatsumi, you are going to pay._   
  
"Why don't you come shopping with us tonight, Doctor," Miya said with a smile that showed no skepticism. "We can show you around."   
  
"Just call me Asato or Tsuzuki. Doctor sounds too formal," I imitated a disgusted face and was rewarded with a burst of laughter. "Sure, I'll go."   
  
"That's great! You're the Kurosaki family's doctor, everyone'll want know you," she said brightly. "Tomorrow, we'll give you a tour around the rural countryside and help you be more acquainted. And the day after that, there's going to be a winter festival. You cannot miss that either."   
  
Something about her tone was suspicious.   
  
"When can I meet the boy?" I asked.   
  
She stiffened visibly and silence settled in the room.   
  
"When Master agrees," she finally said, and bowed to excuse herself.   
  
The door hastily and the sound of her footsteps faded down the hall.   
  
I stared at the door panel in confusion. Kurosaki Nagare did not want me to see his son? But there was a request sent from Kamakura for a doctor. He greeted me at the door. Was he not the one who asked for a doctor? He was the head of the household, no decisions could be made without his approval. Then, how...?   
  
My bags fell unhappily onto the wooden floor as I dropped them with a sigh. Something was wrong here, but I couldn't quite tell what.   
  
_Perhaps I should be more assertive?_   
  
I sighed, louder this time. Perhaps not. Kurosaki Nagare didn't seem like someone who would tolerate it if I went prying into his family business. But I was at a loss of how to pacify a spirit if I couldn't even see him.   
  
A sudden gust of wind, entwined with snow and sakura invaded the room. It was only then I realized how cold it was. My feet were numb and the tips of my fingers tinted slightly purple. They should have heating in this place. The Kamakura winters were icy, even if spring was approaching. Was tradition really that important, that they would sacrifice well-being and comfort?   
  
I stepped into the courtyard, scanning the terrain for people, but there were none. Only a failing bird could be heard screaming in the distance. An eroding path stretched up to the mountains that rose steeply beyond the courtyard wall. The snow was going to melt soon; the winter was dying.   
  
A soft creak, like footsteps on decaying frost.   
  
I tensed instantly and glanced at the intruder. A figure, shaded by the sakura, watched silently from a distance. For a moment, icy green eyes met mine. Then a flutter of white garments and he was gone.   
  
***   
  
"Please step this way, Tsuzuki-san," Miya said, gesturing towards the meeting room veiled by the screen door.   
  
I smiled towards her amiably, but the expression she returned was feeble and nervous. Whoever this Rui-sama was, she must be a frightening character. And I thought Miya-chan said she was kind and beautiful.   
  
As expected, when Rui finally returned from her trip, she called for my company. She had been come for almost two days, and for two days, I was dragged around the countryside by Miya and her friends, touring the landscape. The food was great, I couldn't complain about that. But the weather had been rather annoying, the winter reluctant to give way for spring. And I hadn't been able to even catch a glimpse of the Kurosaki heir, the boy whose heart already died, but the spirit refused to leave his body. I was beginning to seriously doubt if this case could be solved before EnMaCho's annual spring celebration.   
  
I stepped past the door and a sparsly deorated room met my eyes, offering residence to only a low wooden table and colorless mats. The windows to the courtyard were parted, the entire north wall was open to the swirling snow and sakura that decended from the mountains.   
  
It was cold. Very cold. I dimly wondered how anyone could stay in this room and be comfortable.   
  
The lady who inhabited it looked almost like a decoration at first. Her eyes were a murky green, like a dark pond in a frigid day. Her dark her contrasted sharply from her pale features like the painting of a master artist. Her lips were fixed in a thin line, as if she had forgotten how to smile long ago. Perhaps she had grieved too long for her son and left all the light behind. Her kinomoto, however, was smiling. The light cloth bore intricate designs of sakura blossoms that danced across her body, something that didn't belong in such a harsh room. She was beautiful, as Miya had described, but not in an approachable way. She felt like someone a person would only watch from a distance and shield away when she neared.   
  
"Doctor Tsuzuki Asato?" her voice was icy but strangely musical, like the song of a blooming lupine in the winter.   
  
"Yes," my voice broke in my throat as I attempted to speak.   
  
"Please, sit down."   
  
I obeyed, stiffening my back and placing my hands in my lap conscientiously, finding myself wanting to please her and fearing her disapproval. The Kurosakis were intimidating. I wanted desperately to return to my room.   
  
"I'm afraid we will be very busy lately. Please ask Miya-san for any needs," her voice sounded apathetical despite her obvious attempt at kindness. Her expression was immutable.   
  
I nodded.   
  
She was suddenly silent. I shifted uncomfortably, waiting for her to continue. Glancing up, I realized her eyes were no longer fixed on me, but the screen door behind. I followed her gaze, recognizing a woman that mirrored her features, but lacked the frozen demeanor. Her face looked flushed somehow, as if the cold bit into her skin. A clear green eyes settled on me only for a moment, then fixed themselves on her reflection.   
  
"Onee-sama," Rui whispered.   
  
_Sister?_   
  
The person I took to be Kasane walked slowly, her head held high and her gaze unwavering. Her footsteps rung loudly in my ears, shattering the perfect fixture of the frosty morning.   
  
_What was going on?_   
  
I kept silent, watching the two women in confusion.   
  
"What are you doing here, Onee-san?" Rui asked, her voice suddenly colder than before.   
  
"I heard a doctor came. You would not mind me joining you?"   
  
Somehow, Kasane's words sounded taunting in my ears. But her face was fixed in a delicate smile, her actions frighteningly polite. The woven sakura of her kinomo seemed to reflect her calmness, but there was a harshness that I couldn't quite identify.   
  
"I was just finishing," Rui said, turning her gaze to me. "Doctor, you may leave now."   
  
I nodded stupidly.   
  
"No, why don't you stay? I would like to hear your plans for Hisoka," Kasane's voice was like silk, sooth and musical. But I couldn't help but wince under that facade of a smile.   
  
"Well...," I cleared my throat uneasily. "I haven't seem him yet. I..."   
  
"Really."   
  
I glanced up sharply at that tone of voice, suddenly cold. There was no surprise in her face at all, as if she had been waiting for those words. Kasane turned to Rui, her eyes bitter.   
  
"You can't keep him like this." Kasane's voice burned with a hot fire. "You have no right."   
  
Rui's eyes narrowed into slits, but her body betrayed no emotion. "There's nothing..."   
  
"Hisoka's dying," Kasane's voice was angry, and she towered above her sister, "You refuse to acknowledge it. He needs help. You're letting him die."   
  
I could feel my back tensing but I forced myself to keep still. How could Rui want to kill her son? The woman was too confused to think clearly. I could not comprehend their words, but as I watched them, I realized that Kasane had meant to let me see this. In this family strung together by delicate webs, someone with her status could not be foolish enough to involve a stranger in a private dispute. She wanted me to suspect Rui for crimes that I did not yet understand.   
  
"There's nothing we can do," Rui's voice was soft now, and she brought her eyes to the floor. "It's too late. It always was too late."   
  
"You're lying," Kasane hissed. "You hate him. You want him to die."   
  
The expression of Rui's face was one of absolute shock and horror. The mask was broken, and she looked at her sister with the expression of a frightened beast. But before she could respond, Kasane left through the still-open door without sparing us another glance. Rui pulled herself to her feet unsteadily and followed, her icy stature shattered. The floors creaked as she ran down the hall after her sister.   
  
I sat at my place in the empty room, shoulders slightly moist from the thin coat of melting snow that drifted from the landscape beyond. I wasn't sure if I should stay, but I didn't want to leave. The floor that I sat on was just beginning to be warmed, and I didn't want to be cold again. The women's discourse was strange. Rui, a woman described as kind and beautiful, seemed to have an icy interior. Kasane, the caretaker of this house, hated her sister with a vengeance. The overall case was beginning to take on a surreal atmosphere. I was starting to suspect that I should not be here, that it was not my place. I had no intention of becoming tangled in the webs of a family quarrel, much less forcing a sixteen year old boy to die. But something held me there. I was suppose to resolve this, but I was beginning to doubt if it was as simple as it first appeared to be.   
  
***   
  
"How are things going, Tsuzuki-san?" Tatsumi's voice drifted from my laptop, ringing with an artificial buzz.   
  
"Terribly," I complained. "The people here are just scary. And the master doesn't like me."   
  
"You're just worrying too much. This case isn't hard. Just follow their traditions."   
  
Tatsumi made things sound so easy, but following traditions were tedious and frustrating. I groaned loudly, then mentally slapped myself. I silently hoped the servants didn't hear.   
  
"Have you discovered what is wrong with the Kurosaki heir?"   
  
I paused, replaying the occurrences in my head. Kurosaki Nagare's expressionless face at the description of his son's illness. Rui and Kasane's exchange of discourse that only blurred things more. Kasane was bitter against Rui for things that I do not yet understand, and she was trying to use me as an excuse to heat past arguments. I wasn't sure if I wanted to play that role.   
  
"The master doesn't want me to see him," I said finally.   
  
"He doesn't want a doctor to examine his son?" Tatsumi's voice was incredulous. "No, you're just worrying too much Tsuzuki-san. The boy was probably resting, and he didn't want you to disturb him."   
  
"But its been two days," I sighed, then shrugged in defeat. "Perhaps."   
  
For some reason, I didn't want to carry a conversation. I hoped Tatsumi wasn't upset at my sudden silence, but I knew he wouldn't question me. Right now, I didn't feel like assuring him I was all right.   
  
This family seemed so cold and distant from each other. How could they be so apathetic to their obvious misfortune? Or maybe they wanted to forget about the sadness plaguing their family, and I was only forcing on them guilt that they didn't deserve.   
  
But I was sure. I could see the servants wry glances as I passed the halls. I could feel that deep distrust within Kurosaki Nagare as he spoke to me. And the stinging frost that seemed to cling to the walls of the entire estate whispered hidden secrets.   
  
These people, with this illness in their hearts, how could they live in such a cold house?   
  
  
End of chapter 1  
---------------------------------  
altered slightly (11-6-01)   
  
Lupine is a red flower blooming only in summer.   
  
Somehow, 2 new symbols poped up. Oops. Wanted to save them for later but oh well...


	3. Chapter 2

[Finally got chapter 2. Arigatou Layla-san for the beta-read! It was very helpful. Used a lot of your suggestions and helped grind down writers block. Muchos muchos arigatou!]   
  
Standard disclaimers apply.   
  
--------------------------------  
Erosion - chapter 2  
by Rubie  
--------------------------------  
  
The land, however ancient, was always vibrant with life. Even in the dying winter, sakura painted the mountainside with a shimmering blanket. The courtyard, although far more callow, cracked and splintered, tracing intricate designs in the earth. Had the flowers not stained it with patches of bloody pink, it would actually be beautiful.   
  
I leaned on the broom, idly watching the wind tear at the flowers and my breath solidify in the wintry air. I was debating whether or not I should sweep; it would be pointless really, only more petals would coat the floor.   
  
"Don't worry about it, Tsuzuki-san. I'll clean it," Miya said with a smile.   
  
"No, I'll do it. It is thanks for helping me the past week."   
  
Miya was very kind to me during my stay in Kamakura, but I had a vague idea that the Kurosaki family was using her to distract me. If that was true, she certainly didn't show it. Her actions were so sincere, I found myself wanting to trust her. I wanted a friend. I needed a friend. In this household full of reticence, I desperately needed someone I could rely on.   
  
I stole a glance at the woman, girl really, whose actions, expressions, and dress molded perfectly into the Kamakura community. It was hard picturing her in a high school uniform, touring the busy streets of Tokyo. As I watched her, Miya's smile suddenly flattered, and she turned her eyes to the glistening sakura. She sobered and bit her lip in thought. I blinked, confused by the sudden change of disposition.   
  
"Tsuzuki-san, you really should leave," she finally said, her voice soft and her face downcast.   
  
"What?" I asked, surprised.   
  
"Master," she paused, as if debating with herself if she should speak on. "Master doesn't want you here."   
  
I looked at her, now thoroughly disconcerted. I was sent for, wasn't I? Nagare sent for me, didn't he? I stumbled as I struggled to put my confusion into words. Miya must have noticed my abashment, because she spoke again, her words rushed and her gestures insecure.   
  
"You're not the first doctor who came here. The last one..." her voice wavered and her eyes drifted to the thick groves of flowering trees. "Master doesn't trust you. You're in danger here."   
  
I blinked again, trying to process her words. So the Kurosaki clan resorted to violence when it felt threatened. Then I must be walking on glass, never certain when the ground would collapse and the family would swallow me. I had been completely obvious the whole time, thinking that I was only an outsider looking in, not realizing that I had tangled myself in a web the moment I stepped into the house.   
  
Miya shifted uncomfortably, as if preparing to leave. I searched my mind for something to say, perhaps to assure her that I would not reveal what she told me to her Master, or something to ensure our friendship and mutual trust. But all I managed to stutter was, "Why?"   
  
"Because he thinks his brother sent you," she blurted out desperately. "Leave, I don't want you to die here."   
  
I choked back a gasp of shock and surprise as the realization dawned on me. I had forgotten about Nagare's older brother. He must be bitter for the leadership of the clan to be given to the younger son. But if Nagare's son died, then the Kurosaki head would be given to his own children. So the boy's illness was intentional? He was murdered with a purpose? I bit down a scowl that threatened to come to my face.   
  
But I must have failed, because Miya stiffened visibly. She hastily stepped away as if I was suddenly repulsive. I reached forward to stop her, but she spun around, her kimono straining against her legs as she almost ran from the courtyard. Her shoes softly crushed flowers and the door slid shut with a faint click.   
  
The wind chose that moment to scream into the late winter firmament, entwining frosty fingers through the trees. Snow fell soft and gentle, but cascaded from the sky in furious heaps as if the heavens had suddenly decided it was unwanted and unwelcome, and discarded it over the world below. I stood still in the courtyard, leaning on the broom and watching the world go by.   
  
Miya must be so upset right now, after seeing that scowl on my face. She had obviously meant to help, but I knew I couldn't leave. To run away would be an act of selfishness. Besides, running from a threat of death when I was already dead was just absurd. But it would be great to be back at EnMaCho right now, listening to Watari's excited voice as he described his latest experiment, or watching Konoe scowl and protest over the latest cases. Even listing to Tatsumi's retorts didn't seem so bad right now, just as long as I was home. But I felt a strange sense of obligation to the child whose spirit hung precariously between life and death, torn in the pain and suffering of vacillation.   
  
But it would be nice to have a friend.   
  
***   
  
Soft footsteps echoed from the hall.   
  
I was alert in an instant, logging out of the EnMaCho files and closing the laptop with a soft click. The room dimmed in response, and I strained to hear the person's actions as he wandered around the house in the dead of the night. Since the first day, soft whispers from ghostlike shadows drifted from the walls. The flowers seemed to gasp with dying breaths as the late winter snow smothered the early blossoms. And for nine nights, I thought it was a dream, or perhaps some figment of my imagination that wanted to add more mystery to the Kurosaki family than there already was. But tonight, I was sure. There was a person drifting around the estate in an ungodly hour, and I was curious.   
  
I wondered what would happen if anyone caught me. Kill me perhaps? From how Miya talked about the family, that was certainly a possibility. My presence here wasn't welcome. I was never welcome. As to why they sent for a doctor in the first place eluded me. I only complicated matters by stirring ripples in a lake for an already sinking boat. Rui and Kasane are treating me with reserve. Nagare, despite his indifference, was carefully monitoring my activities to ensure that my wings remained clipped. They hated me the moment I came, I noted grimly. Didn't they realize that I was only here for the boy? I wasn't here to threaten their way of life, or to turn any family turmoil into the open.   
  
This case was getting nowhere. The Kurosaki heir sounded like a ghost, a person that they only mention with fear and reserve. I was starting to wonder if he existed at all.   
  
Perhaps I should tell Tatsumi I couldn't solve this case alone. Perhaps he would understand or even come to help. Or perhaps I just wanted to run away because I didn't want to kill another person.   
  
I shook my head to clear those irresolutions and tried to stand up as silently as possible. Fumbling around the room in the dark proved to challenging, but I was silently thankful that I had not slept. It kept my mind clear, if not my sight. I finally found the door when my hand struck the wooden frame; it obediently slid open without a sound, and I paused to listen again.   
  
The silent hymn of a distant brook.   
  
The peaceful song of the whispering wind.   
  
Jerky, unsteady steps, echoing unevenly from the halls.   
  
Who was this?   
  
A glimmer of light flashed in the distance. I followed it down the hall quickly, wincing as the wood grained floor creaked under my weight. I glimpsed around the corner of the wall, scanning the room slowly.   
  
There was a flickering candle that stood alone on the matted floor in the middle of the room. The fire was weak, and its light danced across the walls like a life soon to be smothered, desperately fighting for its existence. The shadows was barely discernible, as it was swallowed by the dark. The room was unfamiliar, but I wasn't sure if I had been here before. All the Kurosaki rooms looked alike, with thin woven mats and wooden walls. I didn't remember seeing much decorations in the interior of the estate.   
  
There wasn't anyone here.   
  
I turned around the corner, straining my eyes against the grey shadows. A blur of movement flashed before my eyes and there was a vague sound of surprise. But before I could react, my foot stubbornly caught the edge of a mat and refused to follow the rest of my body. I vaguely felt striking a small form as I tried to steady myself, failing miserably. The thing crumbled like a stack of windblown cards, and the floors swayed at an odd angle and flew up to hit me.   
  
A muffled scream.   
  
A flailing arm struck my face.   
  
"Don't touch me!" a voice, frightened and frantic, was muffled by my shirt.   
  
_A boy? _   
  
I moved away, but he continued to struggle wildly. His skin was faded in the dim candlelight, and bore such a ghostly hue that I was beginning to suspect he was a spirit. But his body was burning, my hands felt scalded by it. He thrashed violently, blindly striking whatever was near him. I tried to catch his wrist, but he struck my face savagely. I tasted blood, dimly wondering whether it was mine or his. Then his hand brushed the candle, spilling the hot wax and killing the flame. There was a gasp as the skin was scathed by burning oil. He winced visibly and pulled his hand close, suddenly still.   
  
"Hey! Are you okay?" I asked.   
  
"Get away! Don't touch me! Don't--," he had meant to sound angry and threatening, but his voice wavered and destroyed that effect. He twisted onto his side, trying to choke back his coughs as his back arched painfully. He gasped, as if the coughing had drained him of air, his breathing shallow and ragged. I hesitated, unsure whether I should call for help or wait until the boy recovered. I had a vague idea that help would only bring trouble to the both of us.   
  
His breathing slowed and calmed, his frame still.   
  
Was he asleep?   
  
I tapped his shoulder lightly. At my touch he suddenly relaxed, but with the placidity of an empty body and empty heart. Alarmed, I searched his wrist frantically for a pulse and found one, shallow and weak, but much to fast to be normal. I couldn't decide whether I should be relieved or worried. I carefully set him in a more comfortable position and freed the arm that was twisted under his body; his head fell wearily to one side, his eyes closed from exhaustion.   
  
I wasn't quite sure how I managed to find the way back into my room in the dark, the boy's body limp as I carried him. He was unusually light, feeling oddly like a set of bones and skin, wrapped tightly in a thick cloth. His breath was hot and raspy in my shirt, and I dimly wondered why the Kurosaki family would let a boy, delirious with fever, wander around the house in the middle of the night.   
  
I edged the sliding door open with a foot, and fumbled for the light with my elbow, accidentally knocking the boy's head against the wall in the process.   
  
"Oops, I'm sorry!" I said hastily as I rubbed his head apologetically. If he was awake, he must be so angry, I thought guiltily. It wasn't hard enough to bruise, and he probably wouldn't remember the next morning, but I was still guilty nonetheless.   
  
I sighed remorsefully and straightened the blankets as well as I could without hands. I found an extra pillow for his head in response to the silent accusations in my mind. The boy laid like a broken doll when I placed him on the bed, his limbs falling weakly to the floor. But even asleep, he bore a sense of discomfort.   
  
I dimly wondered if he was this way every night. His illness must be painful and was slowly devouring him. But even with this, he clung to life. His stubbornness was admirable. I frowned bitterly. Just when I was starting to wonder if Kurosaki Hisoka was a shadow or spirit too. The family had been doing a good job of burying their son.   
  
I pushed some stray strands of hair from his face. He looked very much like his picture in the files at EnMaCho. I recognized the delicately carved face, its features so fragile I had hardly believed it could be a boy's. But under the wavering lamp light, he seemed even frailer, his illness making his fine bones stand out under paper-thin skin.   
  
The boy suddenly drew a sharp breath, his slight form quivering as his expressions twisted into a scowl. His lips formed words I couldn't quite catch, and he struggled weakly under in the blankets, his body tangled awkwardly in its folds. His features were pale and drained in the dim light. His skin almost seemed to fuse with the bleached sheets, had the light coffee of his thin hair and the flush in his lips contrasted in the ghastly white.   
  
Must I kill him? He was already dying.   
  
  
End of chapter 2  
-------------------------------  
Went through a lot of drafts... think I saved 7 different ones so far... -.-;;


	4. Chapter 3

[edited this chapter only slightly. i sorta restructured the Kurosaki family, and added Rui instead of Nagare. it was only a slight change, since I still have tons of homework. sats next month, i won't be able to work on this for a very very long time. and if i don't rewrite this part, i'll never be able to move on. honto ni gomennasi! these editions were really rough, but... *sigh* burn down my school and i'll wordship you]   
  
Standard disclaimers apply.   
  
-------------------------------  
Erosion - chapter 3  
by rubie  
-------------------------------   
  
Light filtered through the rice papered windows lazily, wisps sneaking past the small cracks in the wooden frame. One settled comfortably just over my right eye, and I frowned in protest. I opened my eyes reluctantly, dimly wondering why I was sleeping face down on the floor. My arms were tangled uncomfortably in a blanket that I didn't remember claiming. The bed was empty but made, shadowed in the far corner.   
  
There was a vague nagging thought that something was missing.   
  
A sluggish racking-through of last night's memories sent a realization crashing through my senses. I sat up quickly, wincing when my back cracked audibly.   
  
Where was the boy?   
  
The caviling thought twisted into ice that settled deep in my stomach.   
  
I hauled myself to my feet, almost tripping over the blanket in the process. The door flew opened with a loud creak, and I scanned the open halls. There was a nagging dread that last nights events was all a confused dream. But I was sure that the boy existed, or was my mind playing tricks on me after almost two weeks of searching?   
  
"Tsuzuki-san!"   
  
The startled voice made me jump before my mind registered the speaker.   
  
"Miya-chan," I whispered with some hesitation. Pale and trembling, she swayed slightly as she stood, watching me with weary eyes. Something was wrong. Did she realize I met the boy last night? But before I could question her, she suddenly burst into tears.   
  
"Miya-chan?" I asked, startled. "Is something wrong?" I bent to offer her some comfort, but her hand shot out and clung to mine tightly.   
  
"Hisoka-sama is ill! And he refuses to see anyone!" she looked at me, eyes imploring. "Doctor, you have to help him!"   
  
"What?" surprised, I could only stare. Miya had tried so hard the last few weeks to keep me from the boy, why was she suddenly encouraging me?   
  
"Master isn't home right now. Hisoka-sama doesn't let anyone come to his room, and wouldn't even touch the food. Kasane wants you to help him, but I don't think Master would allow it. But if Hisoka-sama dies..." Miya's was beginning to sound hysterical, and she spoke as if she wasn't even aware of her words. "Master'll never forgive us. Ever..."   
  
"Where is he?" I asked firmly, giving her hand a squeeze as reassurance. "Hisoka, where is he?"   
  
***   
  
"It's this room, Tsuzuki-san," Miya whispered softly, her voice trembling as she parted the doors. I glanced at the deserted hallway uneasily.   
  
"There are nobody here," I observed.   
  
"No, Hisoka-sama...," Miya's voice drifted. "People don't stay close," she finally admitted, and before I could respond, retreated.   
  
"You are not coming?" I asked, worried, but she was already gone.   
  
Alone, a strange sense of dread settled over me. I knew next to nothing about illnesses. I could picture my treatment for Hisoka, prescribing him multipurpose tylenol. My cover would be blown in an instant. How did Tatsumi and Konoe talk me into accepting this assignment? I grinned my teeth in annoyance. But the door was already open; gathering up my courage, I stepped in.   
  
And shivered.   
  
A heavy blanket of ice settled over my chest painfully. I almost gagged, covering my mouth to muffle coughs. Shadows licked at the walls of the room, entwining itself lightly but firmly over my legs, brushing past the skin. Darkness claimed the body that lay in the far corner, encircling him almost possessively. There was an aura of evil around the boy, so strong that I wondered why I never felt it before.   
  
"Hisoka?" the words left my mouth before I remembered the formalities.   
  
There was no response, but I could hear distant sounds of shallow breathing. I began to approach the still form, disturbed by the silence.   
  
"Get out." the voice was soft but firm, and carried a sense of stubborn authority. I stilled.   
  
"What?"   
  
"Get out!" Hisoka hissed louder as he struggled to sit up. I could barely make out his silhouette against the dark walls.   
  
I refused to budge, fixing my eyes firmly on his face in defiance. The boy seemed to consider in silence, before picking up his pillow to fling it. It landed several feet short, and the boy slumped forward, gasping from the exertion. I fingered the ofuda in my pocket silently, watching as thin shoulders heaved, trembling. I could kill him right now, and put him out of his misery. I could free him from this icy household, where everything was a mask of lies. Then I could go home, leave this maze behind. But...   
  
The boy's jade eyes suddenly fixed on me accusingly. I froze.   
  
"Miya-chan told me you were very sick," I stuttered. "She wanted to see if I could help."   
  
The boy didn't respond. I retrieved the pillow by my feet, and approached him slowly.   
  
"But you look better now. How are you feeling?"   
  
Hisoka was silent at first. "My caretaker resigned. And Miya-san is afraid of me," he said finally, eyes distant as if talking to himself, then turned to glare at me angrily. "You can't help me."   
  
"We'll see," I smiled at him reassuringly.   
  
"I'm feeling better," he mumbled, looking away.   
  
I smiled broadly, purposely ignoring the hidden message of his statement. I knew he wanted me to leave. The boy was alone; servants feared being around him, his own caretaker deserted him, his parents never seemed to visit him. I wasn't going to leave easily.   
  
"I'm sorry about last night," I said, settling next to his futon. Hisoka shifted away immediately. "You know, I hit your head against the wall when I tried to turn on the light," I grinned sheepishly. "Does it hurt?"   
  
I touched his head lightly, but he reeled back as if struck. I blinked in surprise as he glared at me with cold eyes.   
  
"No," he finally said.   
  
"Really? I'm really sorry though." I stole a glance at the frail figure, leaning stiffly against the wall. Why was everyone so frightened of him? He was only a young boy; they were being unreasonable. "You go into that room every night, don't you?" I asked him carefully. "What do you do?"   
  
"It's peaceful there," he whispered.   
  
"You don't like company?" I glanced at the boy again, but he turned away, facing the wall.   
  
"No." His words was soft, but I knew they were a dismissal.   
  
I chose to be oblivious though, shrugging off his words carelessly. "Hey, what happened this morning?" I asked, "What happened to make Miya-chan come crying to me at five in the morning?"   
  
The boy didn't respond. He continued to stare at the wall, eyes framed with thick lashes large in the still dim room. His body was tense under the blankets, as if my very presence upsetted him, but I stubbornly waited for an answer. I had been waiting almost two weeks to meet him, and I wasn't going to give up this chance easily.   
  
Finally, he sighed in defeat. "Nothing," he said with the tone of finality.   
  
And then he was silent again, settling deeper in the thick blankets that seemed cold despite their appearance. Unlike his mother and Kasane's kimono, the sheets were stark white, lined with an intricate red embordery that must have caused their maker much pain. But somehow, it didn't seem to fit him; they clashed with his jade green eyes and pale skin like a lonely flame in snow.   
  
"I'm not going to leave, if that was what you're wondering," I said softly, unmoving.   
  
The figure tensed in anger, turning to fix me with a harsh glare. "You...," he hissed, green eyes burning. But I sat unflinchingly, watching him carefully. Hisoka trailed off, turning to stare back at the wall. "I had a dream," he said with a sigh.   
  
"What sort of dream?"   
  
My words seem to freeze him, and the eyes he turned back at me were filled with a coldness that I remember mirrored in Nagare's eyes. "That doesn't concern you," he said, voice firm with authority.   
  
My throat was suddenly dry, and I stared at Hisoka in frozen shock. The boyish youth and innocence that he carried, despite his stubborn anger, was suddenly lost in an instant. Dimly, I wondered what his family had done to him, to make him a mirror of his father. Was Nagare like this as a boy? If it was, I had severely wronged him.   
  
Hisoka drew a sharp breath, his body rigid. His jade eyes were wide in shock or surprise I didn't know, and for a moment, I thought he was suffering from another attack of his mysterious illness. But then he struggled to sit up, keeping the covers wraped tightly over his body. I reached out to help him, steading him against my arm, but he pushed me away with surprising force.   
  
The sliding doors suddenly flew open with a breath of frosty wind, and Rui stood behind them, regarding us silently.   
  
"What are you doing here?" Rui asked carefully, each word falling like ice on marble.   
  
"I was called," I said, meeting her eyes unwaveringly. She wasn't my master; I could care less what she thought of me. "That is what I was called here for, isn't it?"   
  
Rui shifted her gaze almost apathetically. Instead, she looked to her son, eyes bearing silent threats. But Hisoka was silent. Instead, he sat stiffly from his position at the bed, staring at his mother with a barely concealed anger in his eyes.   
  
"You didn't tell me a doctor came," the boy whispered.   
  
What?   
  
"You didn't tell him?" I asked. "I was sent here to treat him, and you didn't tell him a doctor was even here?"   
  
My words sounded strangely accusing. Rui turned to me with an irritated scowl. With firm strides, she walked towards us and called down the hall.   
  
"Miya-san, please take the doctor to his room."   
  
"No, wait," I said quickly. Hisoka turned to fixed me with a glare, but didn't protest. My grin only widened.   
  
_It was time to be more assertive._   
  
"I would like to eat breakfast with my patient."   
  
***   
  
Nothing was right. Nothing was ever right here.   
  
Silence settled in the dinning room of the late winter morning heavily, and each breath of air felt like a mouth full of icy water, constricting the lungs and choking the throat. Not a bird's scream echoed from the mountains in the distance. Even the sun seemed frozen, the shafts of light that filtered through the trees were stiff and incompliant. Only the sakura dared to whisper, dragging whisps of snow through the sliding doors that parted to welcome them.   
  
No one spoke. Rui seemed to be seething inside, despite her firm hold on her expressions. And the boy still avoided his food, staring at the woven mats as if they were the only things truly existent. I opened my mouth, then thought better of it. Everything just felt... wrong, as if the walls were echoing an inner rage. Sitting in this room was like sitting on the parterre of an ancient temple, beside columns eroding from the harshness of time.   
  
Perhaps asking to eat breakfast with Hisoka was a bad idea. I should have known his mother would insist to eat with us. The boy no doubt would be happier in his room, in the warmth of his own bed, doing what he wished to do. Forcing him to sit with us like this was cruel; he looked ready to crumble and collapse into a heap of white robes with red embroideries.   
  
"Eat," Rui said.   
  
In the frozen morning, her voice was shattering. Her words were obviously meant for Hisoka; he didn't respond, and continued to stare as if there were no one in the room. Were the two like this every time they were together? A mother and son, addressing each other like strangers. Rui spoke to his child harshly with a commanding and apathetic tone. And Hisoka's painfully neutral expressions spoke of careful self-control. Living in such a could household must have grinded him into submission. But he must have been so bitter inside...   
  
I should really say something.   
  
"If you don't like the food, I can get you something when I go to the village later," I offered.   
  
The boy didn't respond to my words, but gripped the wooden bowl with both hands mechanically. For I moment, I thought he would hurl it at me, by the way his hands shook with either anger or fatigue and his eyes glazed. But he began to eat, carefully but obviously not enjoying his meal. His face contorted, as if each bite was disgusting and distasteful. He crammed the food in his mouth, and when they refused to be chewed or swallowed, washed it down with water. It looked more like an act of frustration rather than hunger. I wondered what I said wrong.   
  
I searched my mind for something else to say. "Are you cold, Hisoka? You look really pale."   
  
The two looked at me in surprise, and I wondered if I said something wrong by using a too intimate form of his name. I wasn't sure why I did, but calling him by anything else seemed unfitting.   
  
"No," he finally whispered.   
  
"The house is really cold in the winter. You should install a heater here."   
  
"No," he repeated.   
  
"Are you tired? You look tired."   
  
"No."   
  
I chewed my chopsticks in frustration. Rui wasn't even trying to pretend to eat anymore, watching me through silent eyes. It would be nice if she would leave. Her silent threats were becoming annoying, and her efforts to keep the buried tensions within the household hidden were painfully obvious. But I was here as a doctor for his child; private issues did not concern me. Why did she perceive me as such a threat?   
  
"I was quite surprised to see you, Hisoka. By the way everyone spoke about you, I thought you were a myth," I admitted. I knew I had willingly angered Rui, but I didn't care.   
  
Rui stood up in one swift fluid movement, and the floor boards protested as she walked stiffly out. If that was meant to intimidate me, she had failed. But Hisoka remained unmoving, staring past as if nothing had happened.   
  
I chewed my lip, attempting to find a way to break the cold tension that lingered between us. "It looks like its going to be a nice day outside. Do you usually go out?"   
  
"No."   
  
"Does anyone take you outside sometimes?"   
  
"No."   
  
"Would you like to come with me to town today?"   
  
"No."   
  
I grimaced. This conversation was going nowhere. I dimly wondered why he even chose to stay in the room, considering how my attempts at a conversation had progressed. I had expected him to be more talkative after his mothing left the room, after the absence of the seemingly impenetrateable barbed wire. His frustration towards Rui was rather obvious, however suppressed it may be to him. "You don't like your mother?" I asked softly, and immediately regretted it. It was a sensitive subject, and we were not intimate. I had no right to ask him such question, but the words escaped before I could stop myself. "I'm sorry," I said quickly in an attempt to correct myself.   
  
Hisoka paled, or rather it was only the light. It was impossible to tell. But he made no attempt to answer. Sakura renewed its efforts to paint the floors with that bloody pink. The dull silence became an incessant buzz.   
  
A failing bird screamed in the distance as the wooden bowls crashed to the floor. Hisoka tripped over his food tray and stumbled on unsteady feet to the courtyard. The ice cracked and splintered as his bare feet met the earth. He fell to his knees, then retched in the garden.   
  
***   
  
"He's bulimic?" Tatsumi's voice sounded incredulous.   
  
"Either that or anorexic," I said. "He doesn't eat. But when he does, it just comes right back out."   
  
"Tsuzuki-san..." Tatsumi sounded tried. "You only saw him for a couple of hours. He may not eat, but that doesn't mean he never eats."   
  
I glanced at his image in the laptop. "Hisoka is ill and dying because he has some sort of eating disorder." I pointed out. Somehow, even as I said that, it didn't sound right.   
  
"Kurosaki Hisoka is dead. He only appears to be alive because something is holding his spirit to his body. And eating disorders don't do that."   
  
I sighed in defeat. "Yeah, I suppose."   
  
"Besides, no one in Kamakura has even had documented cases of anorexia. The Kurosaki family has never had any eating disorders in the past," he continued.   
  
I nodded slowly, "Then Hisoka's uncle killed him."   
  
"What?" Tatsumi's glasses slipped as his eyes widened in shock.   
  
I paused in thought, unsure if I should continue. It was cruel, unthinkable, hateful. I couldn't imagine anyone desiring for the death of his own nephew. But in the Kurosaki household, it was hard to say. "The master has an older brother whose bitter about not being the family heir. Hisoka's death would directly benefit his children." I could barely keep the anger out of my voice as I spoke.   
  
"That seems more plausible," Tatsumi mused.   
  
I was silent, watching the night filter through my screened windows. Hisoka had done nothing wrong. He had hurt no one. He wasn't guilty of anything but his birth. "I don't think its fair for him," I said finally.   
  
Tatsumi didn't answer. My words probably worried him, so I searched my mind for something else to say. "But that doesn't explain why Hisoka's still alive."   
  
"No, that makes a lot of sense. Kurosaki Nagare's older brother to reduce suspicions, so he drew Hisoka-san's death over a long period of time. The illness is actually more of a spell or curse tying the spirit to an already dead body. Extended periods of drugging a body can produce a similar effect. This uncle may have been slipping small doses of poison in his food. That could explain both the eating disorder and the illness."   
  
That was cruel. Killing a person was already painful. How could he kill his own kin: a person that he had known since his birth, and watched him as he grew through the years? The guilt would be unbearable.   
  
But then, if Tatsumi was correct, someone would have to be by Hisoka at all times to administer it. His uncle was never in the estate; a servant perhaps? Miya-chan was the only person I could think of, but I couldn't bring myself to suspect her.   
  
"Tsuzuki-san, it seems that your assigned partner retired a few days after you were suppose to meet her. We could send GuShoShin as a substitute," he paused to smile encouragingly. "Or, I may be able to spare some time and join you in a couple of days," Tatsumi added quietly.   
  
I glanced up at the laptop that blinked, and demurred about the faltering electrical supply of the rural countryside. There were shadows of sympathy and understanding on Tatsumi's features.   
  
"I'm fine," I said with a reassuring smile, "But, that'll be great."   
  
  
End of chapter 3  
--------------------------------  
humm... notice when Hisoka says he doesn't like his family, he's always talking about his father? What about his mother? Why doesn't he ever mention her? humm... anyway, this is my take on the Kurosaki family. If you would like to hear me rant, go to the author's notes, but i think reading that gives away the plot of the entire story, so, I'm not gonna link the author's notes until I finish XD   
  
comments, questions, concerns welcome! still draft version *sigh*


End file.
